Save the Cheerleader
by Lara-Van
Summary: We all know the line. But WHY was it so important to save Claire? Sylar getting her power wouldn't have changed anything, since he wasn't the bomb. She didn't DO anything to save the world. Or did she?


**A Note From Lara: This is my first Heroes fan fiction (although I have another one, a big one, in the works), so I hope you enjoy it and there's nothing totally OOC.**

**I decided to write this because it took my FOREVER to figure out what "save the cheerleader; save the world" meant, even after seeing "How to Stop an Exploding Man". And all my friends who like Heroes couldn't figure out what it meant either. But I just figured it out tonight, and I felt the need to enlighten anybody else who didn't get it. So....**

--

"The future is _not_ written in stone!" she yelled, feeling the anger and despair coursing through her veins, threatening to overwhelm her. But she was not her father. She was not weak like him. He craved to be normal, like her, but he was also a coward. Claire wasn't. She was _not_ going to run away from this. She had to try.

With a sharp intake of breath, she pushed herself away from him, away from her so-called grandmother, and flung herself through the window. Falling... falling... seeing the shattered glass sparkling around her like pieces of the stars as it descended with her.... Ten stories. Twenty. Thirty.

Finally, she felt the impact, landing hard, feeling her spine shatter, feeling her blood spray out across the concrete. A rib pierced her lung, and she felt her skull crack. Darkness flooded her mind as the pain of it overwhelmed her...

The next thing she knew, the rib had drawn itself back into place and her broken skull mended itself. Standing up slowly, she snapped her spine back into place with a loud pop. She peered up at Nathan Petrelli and his mother, leaning out the window watching her. Part of her wished that they could see the fury in her glare. They were cowards. With a last look of disdain, Claire Bennet turned and ran down the deserted streets into the night...

--

Nathan Petrelli escorted his mother up to the roof of his campaign headquarters. There was a helicopter up there, waiting to take them away from the city, out of range of the explosion. The explosion that was his brother...

"She'll be alright," Angela commented. "She can regenerated. Peter too, thanks to her."

"I know."

They continued along the hallway in silence for several seconds more. _Why did she go, though?_ Nathan wondered. _What was it that drove her to run back into a nuclear explosion?_ He knew the answer to that. She had said it to his face barely five minutes before. _"The future is not written in stone." Claire, his beautiful daughter... _she still had hope. She was like Peter that way. Both of them could look forward and see a bright future shining ahead, and somehow they seemed to hold onto that, despite the imminent doom facing them. How was that possible? Peter was going to explode. How was it that he still had hope, even with that knowledge? How could he even dream of changing that?

"_The future is not written in stone."_

As they stepped into the elevator, Nathan struggled to put his feelings into words. "This... this whole thing..." he said in a quiet voice, not looking at his mother. He paused again, trying to figure out what he meant to say.

"It's a terrible tragedy, Nathan," Angela said, turning to him and reaching up to cradle his cheek in her hand. "I'm not denying that. But a better world will rise from the ashes. You know that. I know that." Nathan nodded. It was true. It had been his father's death that had given him the idea to run for Congress, after all. Sometimes it took tragedy to make changes for the better.

"I think to some degree, even Peter knows that," Angela continued. The pensive look on his face concerned her. "He is the catalyst for change. You are the one who will bring that change about. We need you to unite the country, the world. We need you to be a leader, to give us hope."

_Hope..._ How could he give anyone else hope, when he had none for himself?

"_The future is not written in stone."_

Claire had hope. Peter had hope. Deep down, Nathan knew that Peter was ten times the man he himself was. Either one of them was more fit to inspire the world, to help a stunned nation come together in the bright dawn after Doomsday. His brother... his daughter...

"_The future is not written in stone."_

They were working together, they had been for weeks, trying to stop what was coming. For God's sake, his brother was a fucking _bomb_, and he still had hope that the day after tomorrow would dawn on a safe and whole New York. Where did it come from, this hope? How was it that he, in whom Linderman and his mother had placed so much trust, had no faith, while his daughter had it all?

They were still trying to stop it. Even now, in the eleventh hour, they were racing the clock, determined to prevent the inevitable.

"_The future is not written in stone."_

The inevitable? What made him think this was inevitable? His mother had said so. But since when did he trust what people said completely, when was the last time he had taken anything without a grain of salt? Angela Petrelli was no prophet. But here he was, racing away from his brother and his daughter on her word alone. He was leaving them to their fate.

All his life, he had dropped everything to help Peter. It was just the way things were. Peter was his brother. They were linked by blood, and Nathan had always protected him. But now, in his darkest moments, Nathan was abandoning him.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the rooftop and the helicopter, blades spinning slowly. Angela crossed the tarmac to the open door of the chopper. As she climbed inside, Nathan's mind was spinning.

"_The future is not written in stone."_

Claire. And Peter. They still hoped for the best. They thought they could change the future. But what could they do? If Peter had absorbed the power of that... what was his name? Ted? If he had absorbed the power of Ted, the nuclear man, and he couldn't control it, there was nothing Claire _or_ Peter could do to stop him from losing control. So Peter _was_ going to explode. That couldn't be changed.

"_The future is not written in stone."_

The explosion couldn't be prevented, not now. But was there something else? Some other factor? Maybe... the location. That man who could teleport... Hiro Nakamura. But no, Hiro wasn't even in the city, as far as Nathan knew. They couldn't rely on him. Who else could get Peter out of the city in time to save it?

Nathan closed his eyes as he realized what he had to do. _He_ could get Peter far away from New York. When Hiro had told him he would help to save the world, he had scoffed. What could he do to help? All he could do was fly. He wasn't much use in some fight against the terrifying villain in Isaac Mendez's paintings.

But the "villain" was his own brother. And it seemed that "Flying Man", as Hiro insisted on calling him, was the only person who _could_ do anything to save New York. Very well. He would do what he had to, for his family. For the world.

"Nathan? Come dear, we haven't much time," Angela said urgently.

"Go, Ma," Nathan said in a soft voice. "I'm not coming."

"Of course you are, Nathan. Don't be ridiculous. What on earth do you think you're going to do?"

He sighed. Peter was right. Claire was right. "I'm going to save the world," he said. Angela snorted. Nathan smiled sadly at her. "The future isn't written in stone, Ma." And with that, Nathan Petrelli launched himself into the sky, searching for the bright glow he knew he would see somewhere in the city...

--

Claire's hands shook as she pointed her father's pistol at Peter. Her hero. Her uncle. "Please! _Please_ tell me there's another way," she begged, tears streaming down her face.

He dropped down out of the dark sky, just catching her last words. "There is, Claire," Nathan said quietly. "The future isn't set in stone." Her eyes widened at the repetition of her earlier words. He knew she understood that _he_ had understood. He turned to look at his brother.

Peter was shining from within, his hands glowing orange. A white light, bright as if he had swallowed a star, pulsed from within him, flashing and glowing. It was almost beautiful in its terrible power. "I took his power, Nathan," he gasped. "I can't control it!"

"You saved the cheerleader, Peter..." Nathan turned to look at Claire, as he finished his statement. "... so _we_ could save the world." He saw the moment when Peter understood what he meant. There was a shift in his eyes, a shock and revulsion at the idea of what he was suggesting.

"I can't let you die," he whispered.

"And I can't let everyone else," Nathan replied.

"I love you, Nathan," Peter said in a hoarse voice.

"And I love you. Are you ready?" Peter nodded, and Nathan seized him tightly in his arms. He could feel the intense heat, hotter than the sun, burning beneath his hands, but he didn't let go. Instead, he launched himself skyward, rising faster and faster and faster... He was being burned. Nathan knew that it would hurt later, if there was a later, but here and now he didn't feel it.

The wind stung his face, and wisps of cloud turned to boiling steam as they neared them. Peter was burning, burning up in his arms. Nathan could feel the skin on his face and arms peeling away...

Suddenly, he felt Peter squirm. "Let go!" he yelled. "Let go! We're high enough and I _can't_ let you die!" Nathan shook his head, but Peter pushed him hard in the chest and his grip was loosened. Weak and injured, Nathan fell slowly back to earth, watching his brother all the way.

Peter continued on upward, his fire propelling him forward like a rocket, burning through the clouds. And suddenly, six miles up, he exploded in a flash of light. Bright... it was bright. Brighter than the sun.

Nathan smiled as he slipped into unconsciousness. Peter was right. Claire was right. He had saved the world. And he had learned something from his daughter tonight. The future _wasn't_ written in stone.

--

**So you see, I had this epiphany: It wasn't about Claire's powers at all. It wasn't about keeping Sylar from getting her power. It was about the inspiration she gave to Nathan in those few seconds before hurling herself out the window. The strength of her spirit, her bravery despite her desire to do nothing more than go back to Texas and live a normal life, showed him the truth. **


End file.
